User blog comment:Biggren/A Highway Beast's Life/@comment-2246928-20150325151257/@comment-32303-20170114061614

Cyma's alto, barely-audible, came from within the tent where the black hare sat relaxing with a flagon of wine in her paw.

"Whoa, the Cap'n o' the Rusty Chain,

Ain't feelin' much surprise,

'E's deader'n a duck on the ocean floor,

While the fish nibble oot 'is eyes.

An' the crew o' the Rusty Chain,

Ain't feelin' tae much pain,

O y'can't wipe yer nose when yer 'ead's chopped off,

An' they'll never see their tails again...

O the bosun's got a spear in 'is liver,

An' the mate's got a spear through 'is throat,

An' they're usin' the fat off an' ole searat,

Tae set alight tae the boat!

O they carved off the lookoot's ears,

An' stuffed em oop 'is nose!"